


Spiralling

by WritingFrances



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:27:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingFrances/pseuds/WritingFrances
Summary: Trixie's drinking is beginning to get out of control, and Delia has noticed. Can she and Patsy help Trixie before she gets in too deep?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short first chapter, just to get into the swing of things!

Trixie flopped theatrically onto her bed, her arms hanging over the side, a groan of exhaustion escaping her as Patsy and Delia looked up from their positions on Patsy’s bed.

Patsy was reading Phyllis’ _Journal of Nursing_ and complaining to Delia about the increasing number of nurses allowed to wear slacks – a number which they were still not a part of. 

She quirked an eyebrow in amusement at Trixie’s dramatic display.

“Well, aren’t you just a walking, talking advertisement for how wonderful a quality of life the NHS nurse has?”

Trixie groaned once more in response, her voice coming out muffled as she spoke into her duvet. 

“8 hours I was stuck with my head between that woman’s legs! _8 hours!_ At some points I don’t even think she was _trying_ to push!”

Patsy laughed and looked at her watch, letting out a sigh as she noticed the time. 

“I’m on call at five,” she said, as Delia pulled a face. “I suppose I’d better head off and freshen up if I’m going to be ready.”

“I feel as though we’re just ships passing in the night lately!” Trixie said, rolling over and looking up as Patsy started gathering her wash bag. 

“I know.” Patsy sighed. “But I’m leaving you in the wonderful company of Nurse Busby tonight, so I’m sure you’ll manage!” Patsy gave Delia a subtle wink as she made her way out of the room.

“Well, you’ve certainly got a much better taste in music than Patsy, Delia, so we’re already fairing quite well!” Trixie smiled warmly at Delia.

“Don’t let her hear you saying that,” Delia whispered dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “She’s awfully proud of her record collection, you know!”

“Oh, I know.” Trixie giggled, heaving herself off the bed and over to her drinks cabinet. “That just makes it all the more fun! Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Delia smiled, accepting the glass of gin that Trixie handed over and leaning back against Patsy’s headboard. As she had predicted, Patsy had a call out within the first ten minutes of being on shift, leaving Trixie and Delia in the bedroom, chattering away naturally as Trixie’s records span slowly on the dancette. Delia smiled, glad to have settled so easily into Nonnatus House. She had worried, at first, that she might find it a little awkward without Patsy there to constantly act as a buffer, but she had soon settled down, making friends easily with the other midwives in her own right. 

It was after midnight when she bade Trixie good night and headed to her own bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar in the hopes that a certain red-head might be tempted to slip through it when they returned home. Those were the little things that Delia loved the most about living at Nonnatus; knowing that Patsy was sleeping mere feet away, that she could (and often would) slip silently into Delia’s bed after a long shift, wrapping her long arms around Delia’s waist and placing soft, gentle kisses on the back of her neck until she woke up enough to return them. 

The next morning saw Delia dashing into Patsy and Trixie’s room, not bothering to knock, looking around for Patsy’s neatly folded uniform. 

“Pats, can I borrow your belt? I’ve just broken mine and I don’t have time to fix it!”

Delia grabbed Patsy’s belt from the chair without waiting for an answer, wrapping it around her waist as Patsy sat up, squinting at the clock.

“Delia, look at the time! You’re going to be late, Trixie left ages ago!”

“I know, I know, I slept in!” Delia huffed as she fastened the belt, hurrying over to kiss Patsy before she left. As she pulled away, she noticed the almost empty bottle of gin on Trixie’s bedside table. 

“Bloody hell, that bottle was almost full when I left last night!” She frowned at the bottle, turning to Patsy in confusion. Patsy glanced at the bottle for a second before looking away and climbing out of bed.

“Was it?” She said uninterestedly, not meeting Delia’s eyes. 

“Yes! We only had two or three each out of it, and it was brand new! And I know you didn’t have any because you hate the stuff.”

Delia’s eyes followed Patsy as she opened her wardrobe door and started flipping through the hangers. 

“Do you think it’s a bit too chilly to go out without a jumper?” Patsy held a blouse up for Delia to scrutinise. 

“Patsy, she can’t have drank that entire bottle on her own! She’d have been bloody leathered!”

Patsy rolled her eyes, laying the blouse on her bed. 

“Deels, you’re going to be awfully late if you don’t get a move on!”

Delia looked at her watch and swore, giving Patsy a rushed goodbye as she hurried out of the door, tripping over her shoelaces as she did so and making a mental note to continue the conversation later. Being well-versed in Patsy’s methods of communication, she could recognise deflection when she saw it, and she cursed herself for not having the time to talk about it properly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia catches Patsy bringing Trixie home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> So I know these chapters are a bit short, but I tend to fall into a short but frequent pattern that I can never get out of. Sorry!

After an intensely busy day on the ward, and more than one public reprimanding from Matron regarding her unkempt hair, Delia had never been more glad to get home to Nonnatus. She pushed open the heavy oak door, slipping her shoes off before it had even closed behind her, and headed straight for the living room, hoping there would be some room on the settee for her to collapse onto. 

“Good evening, Nurse Busby.” Phyllis smiled as Delia flumped next to her on the sofa. “Hard shift?”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen today!” Delia groaned, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back.

Phyllis chuckled.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a story that will shock me, lass.” 

Delia smiled in agreement, knowing that the older nurse had seen more than her and the others put together. She rested her feet on the coffee table as she chatted away about her day to Phyllis, wishing more than anything that Patsy had the night off so they could retire to Delia’s room and spend the evening in each other’s company. Patsy was both the best and the worst thing about living at Nonnatus. Having her so close meant Delia was struggling to keep their relationship to herself; she could feel her eyes lingering on Patsy over the dinner table, hear the affection in her voice whenever she talked about Patsy to the others, the half-smile that crept onto her face whenever Patsy’s name was mentioned. She tried to rein it in, she really did, but Delia had never been much good at hiding how she felt. She was sure that Trixie was beginning to suspect something – even Phyllis had given her one or two knowing looks over the dinner table, her eyes boring into Delia as the Welsh woman tried to curb her enthusiasm about something or other involving Patsy. 

As it was, Patsy was on another night shift, so Delia resigned herself to another evening without her. She didn’t mind too much – she enjoyed the company of the others hugely, as long as Barbara didn’t come down and try to get everyone to play Monopoly again. Delia never could understand how one could come home from a long shift and want to spend the evening having to think tactically without even being paid for it. 

“Is Trixie back yet?” Delia asked, her eyes drifting over to the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. 

“She was home and back out again quicker than a flash, actually.” Phyllis replied, frowning. “Nurse Mount was just on her way out when she got back and I think they had a bit of a set-to.”

“She had a row with Patsy?” Delia sat up a bit straighter. It was unlike Patsy and Trixie to row. 

“From what I could gather.” Phyllis said, nodding. “But you know me, lass. I’m no gossip and no eavesdropper, so I couldn’t tell you what about.”

Delia nodded and chewed her lip thoughtfully. She stayed a while longer in the living room and then, unable to concentrate on the banality of the television any longer, bade goodnight to Phyllis and the others and made her way upstairs. She would wait for Trixie to come home, she thought as she got into bed, and then she would interrogate her before Patsy came home from work. 

After an hour passed and Trixie still wasn’t home, Delia could feel her eyelids beginning to droop and placed her book down, just for a moment, on her bedside table. When she opened her eyes again, it was the middle of the night. She propped herself up, squinting through the darkness at her alarm clock as she heard Patsy’s footsteps slowly climbing the staircase. 

It was 2am. She must have missed Trixie coming back. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, Delia heard the door to the room next door open, but instead of Patsy going inside and closing the door behind her, it sounded as though she had retreated immediately and was going back downstairs. Delia sat up in confusion as she heard the front door open and close again. Surely Patsy wasn’t going back out? Delia clambered out of bed, picking a jumper up off the floor and pulling it over her head as she padded out of her room and down the corridor. She turned the handle of Patsy and Trixie’s door slowly and gently pushed it open, peering into the room.

Trixie’s bed was still empty. 

*

It was almost 3am when Delia, pacing around Patsy’s bed with worry, heard the front door open again. She darted out of the room and down the stairs.

“Pats?”

Patsy was shutting the door quietly behind her with one arm, the other supporting a very drunk Trixie. She looked up in surprise at Delia’s voice.

“Delia! What are you doing up?”

“I heard you come home and go back out. What on Earth is going on?”

Trixie groaned slightly as she swayed against Patsy’s side.

“Trixie’s just a little worse for wear.” Patsy said, pulling Trixie tighter to her. “Come on, help me get her upstairs.”

Delia grabbed Trixie’s free arm and hoisted it around her neck, wrapping her own arm around Trixie’s waist and helping Patsy direct her up the stairs to the bedroom.

“She’s more than a little worse for wear, Pats!” Delia whispered as they undressed Trixie and got her into bed. “What’s happened? Phyllis said you had a row?”

“Oh, that? It was nothing.” Patsy said shortly. “Honestly Delia, she’ll be right as rain in the morning. Just go back to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Delia raised her eyebrows. She did not appreciate Patsy’s dismissal. 

Patsy’s face softened slightly at Delia’s expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” Patsy pulled Delia to her and placed an apologetic kiss on her temple. 

Delia sighed and leant her head against Patsy’s shoulder. She was used to Patsy brushing things off, more familiar with it than she wished to be, and she knew there was no use pushing her, but Delia was worried. Something about the way Patsy was acting made Delia think that this was learned behaviour, that Trixie getting drunk wasn’t a one-off, that Patsy had been hiding just as much from Delia as they were both hiding from everyone else.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Delia kept a keen eye on Trixie, trying to gauge the severity of last night’s events. Trixie, much to Delia’s surprise, was her usual jovial self, make up applied with careful precision, hair set just so with absolutely no sign of a late, gin-fuelled night, her demeanour just as sunny as it was on any other given morning. Patsy was equally cheerful, chatting away to Sister Evangelina as she ate her breakfast, smirking as the older nun tutted at something she said. 

“Pats, can I just have a quick word before clinic?” Delia asked quietly as they were tidying the breakfast things away.

“Sorry, Deels – I’ve got to nip out with something for a patient, can it wait?” 

Patsy didn’t meet Delia’s eyes as she finished cleaning the table, finally giving her a quick kiss once they were alone and then pulling her coat on and bustling out of the door before Delia had a chance to say anything more. 

*

The next week passed as it usually did at Nonnatus – a whirlwind of babies, night shifts, and half drank cups of tea, left to go cold as waters broke and phones started ringing, leaving little time for sleep, let alone any kind of serious conversation. By the time Friday rolled around, Delia felt dead on her feet, flopping back onto Patsy’s bed and letting out an exhausted sigh as Patsy and Trixie changed out of their uniforms.

“Gosh, Trixie, what’ve you done to your leg?” Delia’s eyes widened as they fell on Trixie’s thigh, a large, purple bruise painted across it. 

“Oh, nothing.” Trixie waved a nonchalant hand as she pulled a fresh pair of stockings over her leg. “I bashed it on the side of the dresser creeping around the other night, trying not to wake the world’s lightest sleeper here!”

Trixie’s eyes twinkled as she gently teased Patsy, who tutted in mock annoyance.

“I prefer to think of myself as constantly alert.” Patsy said as she grabbed a packet of cigarettes from her bedside table and shook one out. 

Delia frowned at the swift movement of the conversation as Trixie and Patsy continued to discuss Patsy’s light sleeping. They were all nurses. They all knew the difference between a bruise that was obtained through a slight bump and a bruise that was obtained due to a heavier impact. Delia had seen many such bruises on the men who came through male surgical after they’d got drunk and not realised how heavily they had stumbled into something, the weight of their own bodies no longer in their control. Delia bit her tongue, not wanting to press the matter, and definitely not wanting to insinuate something that could be misconstrued, but Trixie’s nonchalance and Patsy’s apparent lack of concern worried her. She let her eyes drift surreptitiously to Trixie’s drinks cabinet, taking a mental inventory of the stock. The two bottles of gin that had been there at the start of the week were gone. 

“Deels?” Patsy nudged Delia with her foot. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, what?” Delia looked from Patsy to Trixie, both staring at her expectantly. 

Patsy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

“Nevermind.” She said, shaking her head at Delia. 

“I suppose I’ll have to live without Delia’s opinion!” Trixie said as she twirled in the dress she’d just put on. “Yes, I think this one will do. Now I just have to find the shoes to go with it!”

*

Delia shuffled slightly on the bed as she tried to think of how to voice her concern to Patsy. They were lying together, reading, on Delia’s bed. Trixie had left for a date some time ago having finally decided on a pair of shoes that would complement the rest of her outfit.

“Patsy?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm.”

“It’s about Trixie…”

“What about her?” Patsy turned the page of her book, her eyes continuing to dart over the words as Delia chewed on her lip.

“Do you think… Have you noticed that… Well, that she drinks an awful lot?”

Patsy didn’t respond, continuing to read her book as though Delia had not spoken.

“Patsy.” Delia nudged Patsy with her shoulder. 

Patsy sighed, resting her open book on her chest and looking at Delia, her eyebrows raised.

“She likes a drink, Delia. So do we.”

“Yes, but Pats, the difference is, she drinks every night, and she drinks a lot more than us.”

“Delia. Does it affect her ability to do her job?”

“No, of course it –“

“Then what is your issue?”

“Patsy! Just because it doesn’t affect her doing her job doesn’t mean it’s nothing to worry about!” Delia frowned incredulously at Patsy. “You’re a _nurse_ , Pats! You can’t tell me that you’re not in the slightest bit concerned? She's gone through two full bottles of gin this week!”

Patsy rolled her eyes and looked away from Delia. Delia continued to glare at Patsy in silence, forcing her to respond. Finally, Patsy looked back and let out a sigh.

“It’s none of our business, Deels.”

“How can you say that? Of course it’s your bloody business.” Delia sat up. “Do you think that by indulging her secrecy, by pretending not to notice that anything’s the matter, you’re helping her?”

“She doesn’t _need_ my help, Delia.” Patsy said, sitting up and swinging her legs off the side of the bed, preparing to leave. 

“Don’t you dare leave this room, Patsy!” Delia stood up, walking around the bed to Patsy’s side. “We are not done talking about this. Why are you so reluctant to discuss it?”

“Because it’s _Trixie!_ ” Patsy expelled, throwing her hands in the air. “That’s not how we do things. I let her get on with her life, and she lets me get on with mine.”

Delia scoffed.

“What you mean is you let her bottle her feelings up because she lets you bottle yours.”

“Delia…”

“No, Patsy. That’s not okay. It’s the least healthy dynamic I’ve ever heard.” Delia sat down next to Patsy and took her hand.

“How would you feel,” Delia began slowly, as gently as she could, “if something awful happened. What if she had an accident, or made herself seriously ill, and you’d let it happen just because _that’s how you do things_?”

Delia saw the effect her words had as soon as they left her mouth. Patsy visibly paled, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing in anger. 

“I’m not her mother, Delia.” Patsy snatched her hand back and stood up, making her way to the door. “She’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself just like we all have to. If you’re so bothered about it, _you_ go and talk to her!”

Delia sighed sadly as Patsy slammed the door shut with force and stormed down the corridor to her own room. 

“But you’re the only one she’ll listen to…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this chapter was so long coming - I've been really busy at work, and then my sister had a baby, so I've been busy trying to fine tune my auntie skills! I know this chapter is a bit short, but hopefully the next one will be up soon. Thanks for keeping up with this if you have!

Patsy slammed the bedroom door behind her and threw herself angrily down on the bed, grabbing her cigarettes from the bedside table as she did so. She lit one with shaking hands and crossed her ankles as she took a drag. How _dare_ Delia insinuate that this was Patsy’s responsibility? Patsy’s responsibilities lay with her patients. Her young mothers, too inexperienced to know the impact of what was about to happen to them; her breadline mothers, not sure how they were going to feed the children they already had, never mind a brand new baby; her single mothers, jilted by the babies’ fathers, or widowed, left to cope with no pay check, no hope, and a screaming infant. _They_ were Patsy’s responsibility. If Trixie wanted Patsy’s help, she would have asked for it. Patsy wasn’t about to go poking her nose in where it wasn’t welcome. She blew out a plume of smoke as her eyes settled on Trixie’s drinks cabinet. 

She let out a sigh.

Two bottles of gin in a week was rather a lot. 

Patsy tried to dismiss the little voice in her head telling her that she knew two bottles to be the standard, that Trixie would have gone through more than that if her week had been challenging, that on a bad day, she knew Trixie could finish the whole thing in one sitting. 

Patsy stood up, too agitated to sit still, and began pacing the room irritably. She cursed Delia for getting involved, for forcing Patsy to consciously think about that which she’d been successfully repressing for the past six months. Patsy knew, ultimately, that Delia was right. She knew she had no right to be angry with Delia, that it was just Delia’s caring nature - the same nature that made her such a good nurse, such a good friend, such a good girlfriend… 

But Patsy let the anger dominate her anyway, fearing what emotion would take its place if it left. 

*

Delia slumped down on her bed, wishing she smoked just so she had something to keep her from biting her nails. She felt guilty about what she’d said to Patsy, about purposely making her feel responsible and at fault, but Delia knew it was the only way to get through. She’d come to understand over the years that Patsy didn’t respond to gentle nudges, too skilled at avoidance, too adept at deflecting comments and suggestions to let conversations take a road she wasn’t comfortable with. Sometimes a verbal slap in the face was the only thing that would work.

Delia thought back to their time in training school, early on in their relationship when she was trying to get Patsy to open up about her past… It had taken months to get there.

*  
 _“Patsy, how do you think this is going to work if you won’t let me in?”_

_Delia rolled her eyes as Patsy lit another cigarette and began pacing Delia’s small bedroom. They’d been dancing around this subject for months, Delia gently urging Patsy to open up, Patsy consequently becoming even more aloof, dashing any of Delia’s hopes that she might be getting somewhere. Patsy had told Delia that her mother and sister had died when she was younger, that much she’d managed, but other than that Delia had been left in the dark._

_“I just don’t see why it_ matters _, Delia!” Patsy expelled for what felt like the thousandth time. “They’re dead, they’re gone, that’s it. What good will it do to bring it all up again?”_

_“I just…” Delia let out an exasperated huff and threw her hands in the air. “I just feel it’s something I need to know, Pats. It’s such a huge part of you, it just feels like there’s this giant chasm between us because of this thing you’re holding onto and I can’t bridge it on my own.”_

_“Well, why do you need to? I don’t feel like it’s holding me back. It’s never held me back before. I’ve got myself through school, through nursing school, into a job. I’ve made friends and I’ve got you and Trixie and I’m absolutely fine. I just don’t see why you need anything more from me.” Patsy shrugged nonchalantly and took another drag on her cigarette._

_Delia took a deep breath. She was going to have to do it now._

_She’d been putting it off for weeks, months maybe, but she felt that it was the only thing that could get Patsy to take that final step._

_“I need it,” she began, raising her eyes to meet Patsy’s, “because I love you.”_

*

Patsy rolled over in bed as she heard Trixie climbing the staircase. She felt a drop in her stomach as she realised she was listening closely to Trixie’s footsteps to ascertain her level of inebriation. When had she started doing that? It had become second nature without Patsy even noticing. She thought about the feeling of relief she refused to acknowledge every time Trixie came home safe, the breath she let out when Trixie was finally tucked up in bed, the ear she kept cocked throughout the night for sounds of choking…   
Patsy closed her eyes tight as she listened to Trixie getting ready for bed. Her movements were smooth and quiet, a sign that she was relatively sober, a sign that she was okay for the time being, a sign that Patsy could finally relax.

But she didn’t relax. Finally, after months of avoiding the topic, months of downplaying the gravitas of the situation, she knew that, come morning, she would have to speak to Trixie. 

*

“You’re very quiet this morning.” Trixie observed, looking at Patsy as she pulled on a pair of stockings.

“Am I?” Patsy didn’t meet Trixie’s eyes, instead turning to the mirror and scraping her red hair from her face, pinning it up into a neat bun.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, frowning at Patsy in the mirror.   
Patsy swallowed. 

“I want to talk to you.” She said softly, turning around and finally meeting Trixie’s eyes. “About your drinking.”

Trixie raised her eyebrows, a silent nod to their unspoken agreement. Patsy cleared her throat uncomfortably, could almost feel Delia’s absent eyes on her. 

“I’m just… I’m concerned, Trix.”

“Patsy. Don’t.” Trixie’s voice adopted a threatening tone. 

Patsy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing all the bravery she had.

“I’m going to Trixie. I’m sorry. I have to.”

“How’s Delia?”

Patsy’s eyes snapped open, something about Trixie’s tone making her anxious .

“What does Delia have to do with this?” Her eyes travelled over Trixie’s face, taking in her new expression. The anger and fear that had flitted over her features moments ago had been replaced by something Patsy couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You tell me.” Trixie raised her eyebrows threateningly. 

Patsy saw it now. The expression on Trixie’s face was victory. If Patsy was asking Trixie about her drinking, all bets were off. The unspoken agreement had been broken, and if Trixie was going down, she was taking Patsy with her. Patsy felt anger surge through her at the injustice of it. She stared at Trixie incredulously.

“You tell me.” Trixie repeated, daring Patsy to go further. 

Patsy pressed her lips tightly together, felt the blood thundering around her head, the perilous silence of the room beginning to crush her. Eventually, she threw the can of hair lacquer she’d been holding on her bed and stormed out of the room, brushing Trixie’s shoulder roughly as she passed.

 _Fine._ Patsy thought angrily as she slammed the door behind her with all the strength she could muster. _I’ve tried my best and that’s all I can do. Let her drink herself out of her job and into an early grave. See if I care._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy overhears something which forces her to speak to Trixie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! (If anyone is still reading this...)
> 
> So life has gotten in the way of fic writing lately, but Trixie's recent storyline has given me a little push to carry on with this. Sorry it's been so long (if you were in any way invested), but it's here now and there's more to follow!

Patsy stacked the chairs in the clinic noisily, slamming each one down with force. She was so caught up in thoughts of Trixie and the altercation they’d had that morning that she jumped when she felt Shelagh’s hand gently on her shoulder.

“Patsy…” Shelagh said softly, her eyes searching Patsy’s own. “Is everything alright? You’ve seemed awfully out of sorts today.”

Patsy shook her head, a tight lipped smile on her face. 

“I’m fine.” She said shortly, giving Shelagh what she hoped was a look of reassurance. She silently berated herself as she went back to stacking chairs for being so obvious. She could feel Shelagh’s eyes on her as she continued to tidy. The less people who knew what was going on, the better. If Trixie really _was_ intent on bringing Patsy down with her, then Patsy would really have her work cut out for her…

Her thoughts turned to Delia and what would happen to her if their relationship got out.

Collateral damage, that’s what Delia would be. 

Patsy couldn’t bear to think about it. If she had to start again, she would. She could move to a different city, a different country even, where no one knew her name or her history or her life. She could start afresh. 

But Delia… 

Delia had a family. Delia had people who loved her, people who cared about her, people who were invested in who she was. The only thing Patsy had to lose was Delia. But for Delia, everything was at stake. 

Stacking the last chair, much more gently than she had been doing, Patsy walked over to the coat rack and pulled her jacket and scarf down, wrapping herself up before facing the bitter wind outside. She shouted a hasty goodbye to Shelagh and slipped out of the door before waiting for a response, her eyes automatically flicking to the phone box outside the clinic, hopeful, despite knowing that Delia wouldn’t be there today. 

Patsy sighed as she jammed her hands into her pockets and started the walk back to Nonnatus alone. She hated arguing with Delia. She especially hated it when Delia was right, as was usually the case. She hated how snippets of their arguments always played back in her mind like a film, showing the highlights reel of Patsy shouting and snapping, and Delia always calm, collected, reasonable. There were times when Delia would shout, of course, but she was usually right in those instances as well. Even so, she would always slink shamefaced into Patsy’s bedroom after she had calmed down, her eyes full of apologies and regret. 

Patsy’s heart felt heavy as she pushed open the front door of Nonnatus and she felt an unfamiliar sting of tears as she thought, again, of her argument with Trixie. All she wanted to do was climb to stairs to Delia’s room, clamber into bed with her, and let herself cry. Somehow, that option didn’t feel safe anymore. Trixie had taken that from her. Patsy never would have thought that Trixie would have stooped so low as to threaten her with exposure, to take the one thing Patsy had that meant anything to her and use it as a bargaining tool. It was this, more so than anything else, that forced Patsy to realise how serious the situation was. 

She hovered around in the kitchen as she waited for the kettle to boil, too on edge to take her coat off and sit down. Grabbing a dishcloth and some bleach from the sink, Patsy started to scrub at the free hobs. She scrubbed until the kettle began whistling, by which point she had taken mental note of all the specks of grease and oil at the back of the cooker. Placing the still full kettle in the sink, Patsy continued scrubbing, her movements becoming increasingly vigorous as she saw spot after spot. She didn’t know how long she’d been scrubbing when she heard someone come in.   
Looking up, Patsy felt her stomach lurch slightly. Trixie was stood in the doorway, evidently having just returned from her shift. She appraised Patsy coldly, her eyes scanning the room slightly before turning on her heel and departing as briskly as she’d arrived. Patsy clutched the cloth tighter and continued scrubbing the cooker, only vaguely aware that she was still in her coat and scarf, her hands becoming red and raw, just scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing…

*

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Trixie clasped the phone tighter as the voice came through the receiver. _Yes!_ She tried to shout. _Yes, there’s someone here!_

But instead she clamped her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears that had already started escaping.

“If you’re in trouble, we can help.” Said the voice on the other line. “But we need to know someone’s there. Can you tell me your name?”

Trixie slammed the receiver down, her hand still gripping it tightly, shaking. She took a shuddering breath, and then another, and another as she tried to control her emotions, the clock striking 2am the soundtrack to her despair.

*

Patsy stood rooted to the floor, her hand trembling on the doorframe, her heart pounding in her ears. Samaritans… That’s what the crackly voice on the other line had said. The charity for people who were… People who wanted to… But Trixie didn’t want to… Did she? 

Patsy felt like she was going to throw up. How had they got here? How had Patsy _let_ them get here? Trixie was her family. She cared about Trixie almost more than she cared about anything else in the world, despite what she might have told Delia, and if Trixie needed her help, however unwelcome it was, she was damn well going to give it. 

Patsy took a deep breath and began towards Trixie, who visibly started as she became aware of Patsy’s presence. She wiped her tears hurriedly and stood up, drawing herself up to her full height. 

“Trixie…” Patsy began, her courage dwindling somewhat as Trixie’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

“I’m going to bed, Patsy.” Trixie said shortly, turning on her heel and beginning down the corridor.

“Trixie, don’t do this!” Patsy hissed, trying to keep her voice as quiet and level as possible as she hurried after Trixie. This was going to be uncomfortable enough without an audience of bleary eyed nuns. 

“I’m not doing anything, Patsy!” Trixie spat back as she stormed up the stairs and across the landing to their bedroom.

Patsy turned sideways to avoid being hit square in the face with the door as Trixie disappeared behind it. The door bounced off her shoulder and she slipped into the room, closing it behind them. 

Patsy leaned back against the wall and let out a deep breath as Trixie angrily started unbuttoning her cardigan. She’d had years of training in how to breach uncomfortable subjects, so why was this so difficult? Why was Trixie any different to any of her patients? She knew why, of course. Because Trixie _wasn’t_ a patient. She was a friend. Her best friend. And if anything were to get in the way of that friendship, Patsy would be heartbroken. But not, she urged herself, as heartbroken as she would be if Trixie were to –

“Trixie, please talk to me.” Patsy strode towards Trixie with a new urgency as Trixie threw her cardigan angrily at the ground and started unclipping her stockings. 

“Patsy, I’m trying to get ready for bed.” Trixie snapped, rolling one stocking down and throwing it at the laundry hamper, closely followed by the other. “So I would appreciate it if you left me alone, thank you.”

“Please don’t hide from me, Trixie.”

“I will _hide_ from whomever I choose.” Trixie pulled her dress over her head, still refusing to make eye contact with Patsy, and grabbed her pyjamas from underneath her pillow, pulling the trousers on with furious, jerky actions. 

“Don’t hide from me like you’ve hidden from everyone else. From the nuns. From your friends... From Tom.”

“You think this has anything to do with Tom?!” Trixie finally looked up, her eyes widening with anger, pyjama top hanging limply from her hand. 

“No, I don’t.” Said Patsy bluntly. “But when you ended it with Tom, I don’t think it was for the reasons you said. I don’t think it was about his job, or moving to Newcastle, or being a vicar’s wife. I think all those things were welcome excuses. I think really, you were just scared. Scared to let him get to know the real you. Because he didn’t, Trixie. He didn’t know a thing about you. Nothing that mattered, anyway.”

“You think that me having a couple of drinks is the only thing that matters?” 

“Stop putting words into my mouth!”

“But that’s what you think, isn’t it?” Breathed Trixie. “You think I’m worthless. Useless. Nothing.”

“Trixie, that isn’t what I think at –“

“Oh, it’s just silly Trixie, getting drunk and wasting her life! Living with a bunch of nuns, failing at relationship after relationship, stuck in the same old routine day after day! It’s alright for you, isn’t it? You’ve been too busy falling in love to notice anything.”

Trixie’s words pierced the air like a cracked whip. 

“That’s not fair, Trixie,” Patsy whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. “I don’t think any of those things, of _course_ I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!” Trixie shouted. She was crying now, gripping her pyjama top as she gesticulated wildly. “I _know_ you do! And the others! I see the way Phyllis looks at me whenever I have a drink, like I’m some poor, lifeless thing that needs saving! But I don’t need your help, Patsy! I don’t need help from any of you!” Trixie put her hand to her face as her sobs began to take control.

Patsy pursed her lips as she tried not to cry. She reached out tentatively and laid a shaking hand on Trixie’s arm. 

“Trixie, you do. You _do_ need our help. Please, please let us.”

“Patsy, I just want to die.” Trixie’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it stopped Patsy’s heart. She pulled Trixie to her and wrapped both arms around her firmly as Trixie’s sobs intensified. Patsy felt her own tears finally break their banks as she placed a kiss on Trixie’s head. 

“It’s going to be okay, Trix.” She whispered as Trixie’s arms wound themselves tightly around Patsy’s waist, clinging to Patsy like a life raft. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. It’s okay.”


End file.
